


godless.

by kamishini



Series: Inari AU [1]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe, Edo Period, Established Relationship, F/M, Gin is a kami and Rangiku is a geisha - done with the upmost respect, Shinto inspiration, mostly Gin's POV here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:20:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26922775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kamishini/pseuds/kamishini
Summary: he would name himself trickster, demon, before ever claiming his divinity.
Relationships: Ichimaru Gin/Matsumoto Rangiku
Series: Inari AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1964434
Kudos: 14





	1. into the mountains.

**Author's Note:**

> The beginning of a series of one-shots within this AU depicting Gin as a shapeshifting deity and Rangiku as a geisha blooming into fame. Rangiku doesn't know that her childhood friend is a god known as Inari posing as a human.

“I hope we always get to do this,” she spoke wistfully, punctuating her aspiration with the crisp plop of another pebble thrown into the cool waters. Beside her, the lounging deity hummed — thoughtful, though a signature stretching smile soon spread despite her vaguely serious sentiment.

“ …throw rocks into a lake?” Gin teased. Rangiku scoffed. The familiarity of their exchange, the playfulness, the rolling of her eyes and puff of her cheeks… merely added to the serene normalcy of their getaway. As though they had always been together, here within the trees, for centuries.

The mountainous horizon met a summer sun with vigor, the vibrancy of life hardly disturbed by the cities and villages at its base — most who shallowly entered were merchants traveling for goods to trade, or hermits, and even then they dared not venture too deep into the mysterious woods far too ancient to be respectfully tamed.

Old _torii_ resided, dominated by extending greenery leeching across their faded red husks. No paths were pressed within the soft grass leading through the mountain, they departed from tentative trade routes swiftly under Gin’s leadership long before reaching their secret destination. Through thick foliage he guided her, insistent, and she trusted him to not lead her astray. Gin took her within its depths, past the silver rocks and twisted trees, further still into the army of ancient branches, towering trunks, and raging roots until they spilled into the mouth of a grand lake.

Water sparkling clear, they rested in a hidden valley of their own. A sanctuary from her human duties; the god could steal Rangiku away to be a little less of a mortal for a few hours… surrounded by all things ( unbeknownst to her ) spiritual… until she was required to retire home. There, they could spend hours undisturbed — though the present visit counted as merely her third time within the deity’s natural domain, she seemed comfortable enough to linger gladly. She stood without her typical elegant robes, fine fabrics, and rather freed herself in the simplicity of a plain outfit best suited for the summer days, wavy locks captured in a makeshift bun hanging loosely by the base of her neck. _She looked beautiful_.

“ ... no, I meant... like, spending more time together like this. You’re _always_ vanishing off somewhere or I’m too busy to sneak out.” Rangiku persisted, defending her earlier statement with a signature pout, and Gin knew better than to even weakly mock her. Straightening up, the god appeared as anything but divine. Though silver strands did betray his facade of mortality with a tint of strangeness, a slight unique trait to be glimpsed at with uncertainty — the main betrayal resided in his eyes.

Though the shape-shifting deity could control all aspects of his appearance, whether human or not, it was a different gesture entirely to dismiss the vibrancy of the eyes. Keepers of the soul, it was widely considered by all celestial and dark alike as a great deception to cloud or otherwise alter the eyes with whatever power available. Demons and spirits could not cloak their eye color no matter the unnatural hue, though gods obeyed via unspoken pact, a promise made to not so shamefully deceive others of one’s true form. But the fox-like entity did not quite play to such clean-cut rules, a trickster and maker of mischief. Gin often remedied the tell by simply squinting his eyes to levels that rendered his vibrant gaze unseen.

Though, with her, he felt an openness — especially considering Rangiku didn’t know the significance of their gazes meeting, nor the truth behind the potency of his azure eyes.

Her soul was exposed to him by a mere glimpse, she didn’t know. She couldn’t have known how he knew her with a gaze. Blurred beyond the curves of her body burned her very core, brilliant and tangible if he so wished to reach out and touch her. Brush slender fingers against the wispy humming light of her sheer existence past what soft skin sheltered her. Thoughts of keeping her fire burning for an eternity flowed through his mind, how he vehemently matched her wistful sentiment of wanting this, **_ALWAYS_**. What fate guided her to his shrine that night forever linked them.

Love seemed far too human, too simple, but perhaps that was the joke of it all. How the bored god had desperately wished for a complication, for an issue to dissect, a puzzle to solve, something new and tangled for him to carefully and slowly unwrap, unravel… now, he wanted plain. _Human._

Their connection could be of a simpler nature; her, the chrysanthemum renowned within the Hanamachi she called home, and him, the boy from under the bridge. They could remain within their dynamic and he could watch her bloom. Perhaps he’d become her Danna, eventually, in another form. How selfish he became, wanting to encompass her in every way.

Emotions expanded beyond the spectrum of colors available to a mere mortal’s soul — here, the divine’s ‘soul’ gleamed with tendrils of unseen light, multitudes of flaring flourishes painted across the canvas, ink staining past describable hue. He thought himself incapable, and yet he still looked upon her with it. Enthralled, mesmerized, absolutely captivated, unable to pull away… the god had fallen in love with a human.

“ — well, maybe soon y’won’t haveta sneak out anymore.” He spoke smoothly, uninterested in touching upon his vanishing act. Omnipresence did not behave in the ways humans daydreamed about, but he couldn’t fault them for wishing it so. Gin didn’t enjoy his departure, but could not simply dwell as a pretend-mortal to forsake his divine duties. _As nice as that idea sounded_ …

“Oooor… you could just stop disappearing randomly.” She pushed the issue regardless, bent knees shifting against grass to scoot her frame closer to his in assertion.

“Where do ya think I go? Y’know, when I vanish and all?” Silver tongue, refined, delicately dipped upon the topic. And he spoke with truth. Intrigue, genuine, tipped his chin upwards in observance of her. There his gaze watched, piercing blue as the cloudless heavens above, and there his gaze entered. Thoughts of him _aimlessly wandering off_ to other cities to flirt among women or perhaps even capture one as a lover, forsaking every thought of her to be overcome with some sort of _affair in secrecy_ , floated briefly in her mind. The image itself was sharp, a thought revisited perhaps or at the very least formulated with focus, ** _worried_** , and tinges of concern for her own importance.

His smile remained as she desperately swatted the concept from her immediate thoughts. He delved no deeper for her internal turmoil of an answer, curiosity appeased.

“I don’t know, that’s the whole point, you just — ” she waved her hands, uncertain, then flopped them back beside her to absently grip upon blades of grass, tinkering with discarded pebbles and rocks that were of her previous attention. Now, the stress-relieving motion aided her through admittance.” ...and sometimes you’re gone for _weeks_.”

“I always come back though, right?” He lacked any hesitation or uncertainty when he answered — nearing pride by the strength of his conviction: he would always return to her. Regardless, Rangiku whined at his answer, as she deemed it insufficient in terms of strength to chase away her insecurities, though he knew her better than to count a fleeting thought as her ultimate weakness. Over time it would brew, grow, or simmer depending on her emotions at that given moment. Whilst the concept itself upset her, she did not feel distraught nor did she strongly wish to confront him on the matter. The value she placed on their time spent together greatly exceeded her desire for answers — and for that, Gin was grateful.

One day, perhaps, he’d indulge her with the truth in its entirety. He’d speak of ageless tales, otherworldly and far beyond human harvests, a quiet prayer spoken with coin dispensed. For today? He wished only to throw a few more rocks into a lake.

Rangiku sighed lightly, then smiled with warmth as she smoothed her thumb across a round stone she had captured idly to ease her nerves. Clouds receded across her thoughts, and once more she embodied the very golden rays that danced within stray strands kissed by a gentle breeze. Delicate, yet _dazzling_.

“ _Mm_ … hey, Gin, can you promise me something?”

Perhaps the gesture was a tad too animalistic in nature — the simple cant of his head with eyes glinting beneath the shade of an arching branch — which therein indicated the attentive energies of someone far greater than a mere man.

A promise was not made lightly, even within the mortal plains. What pacts of demons boasted was that of unending loyalty to their bonds despite the parasitic dynamic they presented, and spirits too held themselves to the standards of eternity within any connection made, any promise spoken, seals made. The shapeshifter deity existed in this same eternity, ingrained within the bloodstream of the ground they sat upon, the air they breathed. The very mountains they lay nestled between remained with integrity to their protective force promised upon the feeble villages below to stay off evils that endured for **_centuries._**

_To what end, then, would he keep hers?_

“Never change.”


	2. gin.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A kami reflects upon a fateful meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not good at this. What is pacing, what is scenery description? What does anything even look like? Does anything exist or am I just screaming into the void?

Gin met her when the cicadas sang and every cooling breeze was a gift.

* * *

The air was hot and hazy along the swaying tree line spanning across a crooked horizon of mountains beyond. If not for the brilliant beacon of her soul, perhaps they would not have seen her amongst the blurring waves of summer heat blanketing her fallen form on the ground.

She was a filthy thing, diminished by the lingering dark, the leeches of creatures which dwelled, too, within this grand forest. A victim of their hunger for a mortal’s essence, this poor human.

A little girl all alone.

When the kami neared, they stopped at the treeline with piercing eyes ablaze. A faint after-image of three men, adults, filthy humans, came to memory that didn't belong to them.

Hers, rather.

These men huddled around her, poking and prodding, such despicable things... as though she were an ant to be squished, prey to be toyed with by the end of a stick. The acts of man could disgust at times, how eerily soulless one could be of their own free will. The influences of demons could excuse very little when regarding a tainted heart. Scorched footmarks indicated such influences had been present, the taste of ash in the air burned at their nostrils. It was a miracle this child still had her soul at all.

The kami would not appear to her in the same height, the same manner, as the assailants that left her broken and crying. Nor was she young enough for them to reveal their true form without causing her distress, confusion, and frustration while living out the rest of her mortal life knowing celestial beings walked amongst humans.

Perhaps she was already jaded, left incapable of witnessing their genuine form in its entirety, all innocence drained from her. If that was the case, they could have walked forth regardless of appearance, and her mind would fill the gaps and the incomprehensible with something bland and utterly human, normal, capable of being processed with ease.

No, she still had a thrumming slice of light in her. Best to be reasonable and not test her faith.

Instead, they shifted into another smaller form with complete fluidity, elegant robes and tails twisting into the winds and morphing, vanishing, shrinking. In the gust of wind that breathed out around him, he stepped outward anew; a child, too. Non-threatening, he even went a year or two younger than her for the sake of her utmost comfort.

He stepped forward, put on a smile, and padded down from the confines of the lush trees and brush which cloaked him from sight.

The rustling footsteps, bared feet on soft ground, seemed to indicate his approach well enough to rend the girl alert, scrambling to sit up and wipe at her eyes as though caught in the act of emotion was something of an embarrassment. 

In fact, she got quite defensive over the matter. Puffed her cheeks and everything.

Until compassion washed over her, and _concern._

_Huh._

“What’s up with those marks? Are you _bleeding_?” Puffy eyes widened at him, and she rubbed at them again with the back of her hand as though to clarify what she was seeing.

Quieter, as though sharing a secret, she spoke again. "Did they get you too?"

Blinking, he raised a hand to observe, as though unaccustomed to its lightness, its agility; he felt **_tiny_ **, contained into this little vessel to appease her.

Idly, he found the issue upon the backs of both his hands.

Red, smooth, these markings flowed up his wrists and arms beneath the robes he donned, then peeked out at the nape of his neck. As though the canvas for brushwork, brilliant in color, it stained his skin. He could only surmise that a blatant and decently sized crimson circle resided directly at the center of his forehead. Similarly colored lines beneath his eyes, as well as matching painted strokes of red trailing both legs, feet, buffered at the ends by circles just above his toes.

These were the blood-red designations of a kami, often following him through his other transformations unless he chose to deliberately obscure them.

Seems like he forgot, for a moment, to hide them from her.

“Oops!” He proceeded to dust himself off as though he recently tumbled through the same dirt she sat on. Each swift and hurried pat, swish, and brushing gesture seemed to quickly vanish those markings from his skin, magic. Like wiping away at a blemish, regardless of the fact that his divine marks were anything but a blemish, and he became less so inhuman.

He finished the adjustment, straightened up his simplistic yukata, then smiled wide and with triumph.

“Better?” A flop of his hands at his sides, what skin that showed from dark yukata was now as pristine as the rest of him, as though his feet had not touched the ground beneath, as though he did not belong in the same breath as the dirtied rags on her shoulders.

In any dimmer lighting, were the days not shining with warming rays of the sun, perhaps a faint cool glow would accompany his form. Numerous efforts were required in order to properly project humanity to her, his restraint being the key.

He was attempting to dial things down.

Normally, he would not have even tried to fit in; appearing in a roar of blinding light and tranquility. Or send a messenger in his stead. Perhaps he was a tad bit rusty, playing _human._

She blinked at him slowly, recovering from a dazed state. He nudged her away from the thoughts that lurked around his strange markings, the way they dissipated before her very eyes. She blinked thrice more, then seemed to accept his soft tampering of her memory... unbeknownst to her.

Not something he did too often, an unfair trick. He disliked influencing humans in such a manner.

“Y—… yeah... but why’s your hair _silver_?”

 _...Ah, he forgot about that._ Rustier than he initially thought, then.

Should he tamper with her again, or _knock her out and wipe her memory_ … and start all over?

“Oh, uh—”

Before he could even fathom how to casually adjust his hair color before her very eyes without causing alarm, or whether or not he should simply stun her into a daze to undo his missteps altogether… he felt the girl moving away from the topic on her own accord, thoughts trailing elsewhere, like where he came from, or if it was safe for her to stay here—if the demon-influenced men would return with their scary eyes.

So he left it as it was, his hair apparently _silver_.

Absently, he decided from here on out to do a once-over by the reflection of a nearby water source… to avoid any further slip-ups.

She seemed unafraid, otherwise, especially in meeting his vibrant gaze with her icy blue eyes in kind. Others would avert, look away, unable to lock onto his eyes without a feeling of being pierced, of their soul being seen in its entirety, a hushed multitude of whispers caressing their temples, their minds, as his presence quietly overwhelmed them.

No, she was staying resolute. She could look into his eyes without divinity swallowing her whole.

At least for now.

“What’s your name, anyway?” She was quick, cutting, a no-bullshit approach to the one who interrupted her moment of vulnerability and sadness. Her nose scrunched, and that telltale sign of wariness began to show.

 _Ukanomitama-no-Mikoto_ seemed like a mouthful, though it was first to come to mind; a lesser-known alternative to the given name humans doted upon for him. And there were too many others, far too many, and far too on the nose.

Who was he, again? In days of old, they’d split into three. Into various shapes, sizes, and genders too.

Today, he picked a boy, lithe as she was.

“I dunno, I’m a lil mixed up right now.” An understatement, apparently.

“That’s stupid, you don’t even know your name? I know _my_ name, it’s _Matsumoto Rangiku_ . Yours… hm, it’s _Gin_ , ‘cause of your weird hair.” A head tilt was all her harsh tongue earned, a wholly unbothered air. In fact, he bloomed pleasantly at her decision to name him. How often humans took in his kin, his shrines, naming torii and foxes alike, naming foods and offerings… and naming him, over and over.

 _Gin, then._ He was Gin.

Her thoughts, her scrutiny, veered closer to feeling some semblance of humor about him; _how silly_ , this boy who hadn't even noticed he had those weird red stains on him, _didn't even know his own name_. Silver hair, too. How silly.

She thought of him like a wild animal trotting over to her from the brush, as though feral and unaccustomed to seeing another person, unafraid due to ignorance and confidence combined. Curiosity, yes, she titled his motivation quite well.

 _Sharp_ , this girl.

Through her eyes, her assessment of him seemed fair, and Gin smiled wide in acceptance. The verdict this girl reached was of dismissal, distracted by the sharp reminder of hunger growling at her stomach.

“Hungry?” He asked, as though unaware, a boy simply answering the cue of that telltale sign. He knew she felt weakened and hadn’t eaten after she ran from her keepers. Several days, now.

Midday, she was coming up on the fourth before he intervened, darkness clutching at her to drag her further off into the woodlands and mountains beyond.

A wandering soul awaiting oblivion, and the leering creatures thought her theirs.

_No, not quite yet._

Gin knelt down to be at her height, crisscrossing his legs beneath him to settle in, and reached behind his back as though to unfasten a bag of a traveler. Nothing was there, really, nothing _at the moment_. Yet his patient palm subtly glowed with purpose and want, materializing within it a fruit readied to be eaten.

He reckoned she’d want something sweet, and by his divine right it felt appropriate to give her one meant for longevity, delivered directly from the plentiful harvests he presided over.

“Here, I got this for ya,” Gin offered out the persimmon from behind his back, and watched as she squinted to peer around him, seeking out the tell of his little trick. Ever the skeptic, she sought out answers she could not immediately identify, this nameless boy that had blood-red marks on him, who did magic tricks with fruit.

Scoffing out a blow of air, she relented, then took it.

“Did you hide this up your sleeve? You’re _so weird_ ,” she whined out, though appeased herself swiftly with a big bite of his offering. Already, the diminishing glow of her soul was mending itself, illuminated by the unseen fury of celestial light embodying him. They sat together as she ate.

“Maybe, I like pullin’ tricks like that.” He reached back again, mirroring his earlier actions, and returned his palm out before him carrying another persimmon within it. He plopped the fruit into her lap and swayed back and forth playfully. “See? Pretty cool, huh? Wait, I think there’s _one more_ …”

Reaching back, Gin brought forth a rock instead and acted visibly confused.

“Eh? How’d that get in there?” He dropped the rock, then made a show of searching his sleeves.

She barked out a laugh, cheeks full of fruit, and a smile full of light.

Gin beamed.

* * *

The sun threatened to vanish beneath the horizon by the time they exited the thickest parts of the forest. She had been close to a village nestled just before the yawning rolling hills and climbing cliffs of the mountains, yet her journey had been arduous already.

Rangiku hid herself from passerby merchants and avoided the swift clutches of slavers aiming for children with no title or family, and she starved herself in desperation to escape the laboring days under a cruel man’s watch. She became forgetful of even how long she had been there, where she originally was from, and who her parents were.

Their souls were in the ether, Gin knew, up and beyond the illness and ailments that separated them from her. But Rangiku knew nothing of that when the night scooped her away from her warm bed in exchange for medicine desperately sought far too late.

The mother died the following morning, and the father was subsequently seized by grief and guilt in forsaking his only daughter for his now-deceased love.

Would Rangiku ever want to know, or would she prefer the swift pain of being taken away from it all?

She was lost. Alone. Afraid. But not wanting to turn around and go back.

He saw the strings that tied to her, the fleeting thoughts alongside the thicker tethers of souls loved, lives lost, her heartstrings guided Gin through her life since her birth. Guided him to here, now, as she followed him; this girl companion of his, forming a new string in its ghostly outline, desperate to tug around his ethereal form beyond the vessel of the boy she saw.

A string which could not hold him, not truly, not _ever._

When Gin guided her through the terrain and down the winding stone steps descending from the mountain, he was quiet and slow. She held his hand as they walked.

“She’ll take good care of ya, don’t worry.” A reassurance meant to soothe, yet he knew she’d not fully believe him until she met this motherly figure herself, able to criticize her with her own eyes.

“Why can’t I go where you go?” She grumbled low. The hold on his hand tight and unrelenting... as though she feared he meant to run away from her once he finished delivering her to this supposed home.

“I’m up in th’ mountains, it gets cold. It's pretty scary sometimes, too, there're _monsters_ ..." Gin drew out his storytelling, dramatics meant to alleviate any amplified fears, yet his playful voice dipped low enough in tone to implicate a seriousness; _don’t come looking for me._

Rangiku opened her mouth to object, hundreds of pleas coming to her mind, rushing, a quiet despair that her companion was not to be latched onto.

But she did not speak her thoughts.

Gin withdrew his hand and ran ahead of her as they neared the beginning roads just beyond the hanamachi, leading inward for ease upon travelers. Various trees swayed along their path, green leaves scattering cascading colors from the sunlight above.

She whined at him from behind, then scurried past a sparse traveler’s guardian statue overcome by moss and crawling roots to catch up to him.

“C’mon, almost there.” He beckoned her with ease in the same matter that demons lured their prey; a calmness, an otherworldly allure, an eerie yet lulling presence. Gin rounded stone-covered paths as they steadily entered civilization at the foot of the wild wood.

If passerby seemed to ignore him entirely, only sparing glances towards Rangiku rather than the odd boy, the girl didn’t seem to take note. Gin weaved himself through the busier streets, prompting Rangiku to follow close behind.

When Gin reached the okiya he sought, the kami stopped outside of its elegant shadow, its high rooftops and bold lanterns, the brilliant red paper aglow with patterns… it all seemed more magical, larger now that he stood so small in its wake.

Rangiku’s trepidation seemed appropriate, then, as she eyed the house with an endearing amount of awe.

“This’s it. Go on, don’t be shy. I can’t stay much longer—” _ah_ , he felt her anxiety spike at his words before she even opened her mouth in rebuttal.

“Wait!” Rangiku spoke quickly, a nagging voice in her head simultaneously shushing her to not seem so clingy, so _scared_. But her feelings shined regardless, and Gin paused a retreating step to heed them. “—don’t… go. What am I supposed to do, what do I say? What is this place, why did you take me here, and why can’t you st—”

Oh, _good,_ Rangiku had been loud enough to draw in the right attention after all.

Gin slowly backed away as the approaching steps crescendoed, the door slid open, and the woman Gin had once met whilst in travel from her ochaya engagement, past his shrine, was once again standing before him. Retsu Unohana. Presiding ‘mother’, teacher, guardian of the many women who sought the life of a geisha.

He willed her gaze to not see him quite yet, though, despite standing just further from where Rangiku stood. This meeting was for Rangiku.

The woman was older, yet absolutely elegant still; refined, her silky black hair brought neatly into a thick trailing braid, her attire exquisite, her stature motherly yet still a whispering song of days in which she moved as art.

Her eyes immediately fell onto Rangiku, standing in the midst of the house absolutely stunned into silence.

But Rangiku did the unthinkable, rather, a blunt and remarkable thing.

She turned and outright pointed at Gin, took in a deep breath, and _loudly_ proclaimed…

“ _HE BROUGHT ME HERE TO SEE YOU BUT DIDN’T TELL ME_ **_ANYTHING ELSE_ ** _!!!_ ”

And just like that, the influences at hand faltered into a swirling mist, vanishing, and Gin was no longer a ghostly specter to this arrangement. No, Rangiku had roughly, _unknowingly_ , yanked that curtain away from him.

The woman did not show an inkling of surprise at the seemingly sudden appearance of this boy.

“Is that so?” A smooth voice trailed, allowing Rangiku to aggressively insist upon nodding, an unexplainable glassy look gathering within her eyes. Tears forming. A child reaching her limit.

She had a long day behind her, and perhaps it was all catching up to her now.

Strangely, how that struck him in the crevice where ethereal light nested within a sacred cage of bones, skin, this fleshy shrine housing a kami.

Gin tilted his head.

Unohana ushered the girl closer to her, a welcoming warmth in the form of an outstretched hand, a softened smile, and a graceful dip of her body to accommodate Rangiku’s lower height. As the girl sniffed and fought her turmoil, her confusion, her exhaustion, and all other things biting at her heels, her sore feet and torn rags, Unohana embraced her.

She locked her gaze with his, and she knew.

Maybe not quite the truth, but this woman knew what he _wasn’t_ , and that was enough.

Retsu Unohana was wise enough, spiritual enough, and knew he was not of this world. A spirit, perhaps; she was smart in determining his otherworldly aura past the sweet aroma of normalcy he intentionally displayed akin to a wide grin. Truly, she was right to be wary of him—demons and lesser spirits carried within every action an ill intent.

Though divine, his intent was still in question.

She looked on with silence, but the burning query still hovered as she ushered Rangiku inside to be washed up. _What do you intend to do? Why are you here?_

The girl spared a last glance over her shoulder whilst Isane, another woman within the okiya who timidly hovered behind the elder, gently guided her past the threshold.

But Unohana, in fact, did not remain silent once granted privacy with the kami lingering beyond her home.

“You will be leaving this place, I presume?” ‘ _This place_ ’, the implications, the nudging acknowledgment of how he did not belong. He enjoyed this mortal’s sharpness, this wisdom which rolled from her aura in waves of both tranquility and fierceness.

However, Gin still did not belong.

“Yes,” a simple answer, a sweetly-coated false truth.

“ _No_.”

Blinking, Gin tipped his chin up to properly regard this woman, this force which spoke so defiantly.

She kept his gaze for a decent pause, then closed her eyes, sighing out. She spoke sternly, a tone incapable of being challenged.

“No, you’ll return tomorrow. And the next day, too. I’ll not have a broken heart beneath my roof. You delivered her to me in such a state, you cannot discard her now.”

_What do you intend to do, why are you here?_

Gin smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I decided to make this into a proper chaptered fic. Can I get a 'yeah boi'????

**Author's Note:**

> More to come! :^)


End file.
